


Flying Below the Radar

by Kimikochan



Series: Second Chances [2]
Category: Veronica Mars (Movie 2014), Veronica Mars (TV), Veronica Mars - All Media Types
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-07
Updated: 2017-02-07
Packaged: 2018-09-22 13:20:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9609194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kimikochan/pseuds/Kimikochan
Summary: Logan weighs his options after Veronica's dad is hurt in a hit-and-run accident.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I can't quite bring myself to leave this little alternate universe. :)

A warm wind blew across Logan’s face as he negotiated the ocean highway, breathing in salty air. His favorite song was playing on the radio, and he reached over to turn up the volume.

_I’m some sick hound digging for bones. If it weren’t for second chances, we’d all be alone._

He leaned back against the leather seat, barely glancing at the boat lights twinkling from the dark bay as he drove over the Coronado Bridge.

He’d taken the long way home.

After six months in the Persian Gulf on the U.S.S. Truman, Logan was back in San Diego on shore duty, but his homecoming had been anything but peaceful. Only that night, some tabloid photographer had ambushed him while he was out with his squadmates.

He’d managed to fly below the radar for years, but dating Bonnie DeVille had thrust him into the spotlight again. Falling in love with Carrie had been unexpected and amazing … while it lasted. Now that they were over, he wished the media would lose interest in him. One friendly dinner had Twitter buzzing with reconciliation rumors.

Logan wasn’t even on social media.

He pulled up to Dick’s beach house, where he was crashing to elude the press, and eased into the driveway. Letting himself in, he greeted his old friend, who was standing in the kitchen eating Chinese takeout from the box.

“Busy day, Dick?” Logan asked, grabbing a soda.

The blond surfer shrugged, his mouth full of rice noodles. Swallowing, he asked casually, “You hear about Veronica’s dad?”

Logan’s thumb slipped on the metal tab of his soda can. Not looking up, he shook his head. “No. What about him?”

“He got mowed down outside his house last night. It’s all over the local news. Some cop got killed.”

“ _Shit_.” Logan’s stomach knotted with dread. “Is he gonna be okay?”

“Don’t know,” Dick replied, tossing the empty box into the trash. “But I smell trouble.”

Logan retreated to his room and opened his laptop. He quickly found the story that ran in the Neptune Register. 

> A Balboa County Sheriff’s deputy was killed late last night in a hit-and-run accident in the Olympus Heights neighborhood.
> 
> Jerry Sacks, 42, died enroute to Neptune Memorial Hospital after witnesses say a white truck struck the sedan he was driving.
> 
> The passenger, former Sheriff Keith Mars, suffered serious injuries and remains in the intensive care unit, where his condition is listed as critical, according to authorities.

Slowly, Logan closed the laptop.

He hadn’t seen Veronica since the day he’d thrashed Gory Sorokin, their eyes locking across the food court as her mouth curved in a curious, ephemeral smile.

He’d kept his distance that summer, certain they’d eventually smooth things over. But a week into the fall semester, a drunken frat boy told him she’d fled Neptune and transferred to Stanford.

Logan had broken the asshole’s nose for calling Veronica a slut.

He’d called her a few times the first year, but his voice mails went unanswered. Embarrassingly heartfelt emails were similarly ignored.

Logan got the message.

It had taken him years to accept he’d never see Veronica Mars again. These days, he rarely spoke of her, always maintaining a mask of indifference when Dick or Parker casually dropped bits of news, like when she’d started law school at Columbia.

Logan had made his peace with her absence, but he couldn’t resist observing her life from a distance.

Once, when he was feeling particularly low after his break-up with Carrie, he’d Googled her. Like him, she wasn’t on social media, but he’d learned she was some kind of high-powered corporate attorney in New York.

Logan changed into civies and wandered back into the kitchen, opening the fridge in search of dinner. He stared unseeing at its contents until Dick reached over and grabbed two beers, handing him one.

Distracted, he started for the patio.

“Dude, where you going?” Dick asked, peering closely at his friend.

“Just for a walk.”

Dick expelled a short breath. “Definitely trouble.”

The beach was dark and empty, and Logan sank onto the cool sand thankful for the solitude.

_I’m so sorry._

The night Beaver blew up the plane, she’d clung to Logan, weeping inconsolably and he’d held her, wishing he could absorb her grief.

Nearly a decade later, he still couldn’t quell the urge to offer her solace.

He nixed his first instinct - flying her home in a private jet - as way too over-the-top.

Flowers and a condolence card was too generic.

Showing up at the hospital would likely upset more than comfort her, and Logan couldn’t bear the thought of Veronica turning him away - again.

He took out his phone, typing, then retyping, a short, carefully worded text. 

> I know it’s been like a week, but I’m always here if you need anything.

His thumb hovered over the send button.

_You’re out of my life. Forever._

Hitting delete, he scrolled through his contact list.

“Hi Cliff. It’s Logan Echolls. I need a favor.”

Logan coasted along the ocean shore a week later, radio blaring, a balmy wind in his face. It had been another long day at work, but the scenic drive always helped him unwind.

He pulled up to the beach house, parking in the driveway before letting himself inside. Dick was in the living room, giggling at videos of James Franco trying on skinny jeans, so he made his way to the kitchen.

Logan was reaching into the fridge when a sharp rap on the front door sounded. He heard Dick get up to answer it.

“Hey Logan - that girl who follows you around is here,” Dick bellowed.

He groaned inwardly as he twisted the cap on his beer. “What are you …?”

A woman stepped into view, and Logan found himself staring into a pair of familiar blue eyes.

His mouth went slack as he breathed her name.

_Shit. How the fuck did she know already?_

Then Veronica smiled at him, soothing his ragged heart.

“Hey, Logan,” she said.


End file.
